


we broke everything that is right

by Dreamdarling84



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7900879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamdarling84/pseuds/Dreamdarling84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cause this is torturous electricity between both of us and this is dangerous cause I want you so much..but I hate your guts</p>
            </blockquote>





	we broke everything that is right

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly horrible at summaries...the lyric is from Landfill by Daughter  
> I write and write and never post, trying to just post and not worry about it.  
> 

     Most of her mornings began the same way curled up warm and hidden beside Petyr Baelish, her mind submerged under a blanket of peaceful oblivion.  She could feel the faint sunlight poking through her eyelids, beckoning her. The sharp awareness that she could not stay burrowed in bed washed over her, seeped into her consciousness and gradually spoiled her peaceful stupor. Bleary eyed she sat up and rubbed her face barely able to handle the daylight while she fumbled to get her feet on the ground.

     She stretched her stiff arms and legs, while her mind slowly picked up speed. A slow building panic formed, barreling through her veins, infecting every part of her with a gnawing dread. She wandered over to the window once she was done slipping on her dress. She forced her mind to focus on the calming strokes of her fingers through the long locks of her hair. Her nose took in a steady stream of air while her mind shifted its attention to the expanding of her ribs.She allowed the sadness and regret to burn wild and hot for the few seconds of her deliberate, calm inhalation. Then she rounded her lips and exhaled at the same steady pace. As the breath expelled from her lungs she snuffed out every bit of guilt and regret, the gnawing feeling vanished.

     Grounded once again, she tied her hair back, slipped on her shoes,then grabbed her cloak from the top of his desk and flung it around her shoulders.  She watched him sleep while her fingers tied and fastened the strings and hooks of her cloak. He was laying on his back, one hand resting on his chest, the other sprawled out to the side. She was so very tired of these early mornings, of always being the one who had to sneak off unseen while he got to stay in bed fast asleep.

     She took the long way back to her rooms through the courtyard.  Being out in the bitter cold air, watching the warm glow of the sun rising through the wispy, gray clouds never failed to steel her nerves for whatever the day had in store.  She lingered a moment in the quiet courtyard. She sat down at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at the sky, watched the birds flying overhead, and thought once again of running away, a different life.  She thought of all the what ifs, all the places she had not yet visited and explored.  It was a comfort to get lost in such an impossible fantasy, far away from the constant reminders of what she had lost, far from the burden of duty. 

     She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she felt a hand on her shoulder.  She looked up to see Jon standing over her, “Sansa why are you sitting out here all alone in the cold?”

     She shrugged, “I woke up very early and wanted some fresh air.”

     “You've been out here awhile. Is everything ok?”

     “I’m fine. Just needed to clear my mind.” she replied as she stood.

     He took her arm in his, “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your room and have food brought to you.”

     Sansa did her best to foster her relationship with Jon, find meaning and purpose in their triumph but the more she forced it, the more it felt wrong.  _But it has to work_ , she thought.  It’s what she wanted...what she was suppose to want.  _The Starks ruling the North together_.

     No matter how she spun it, it still stung not to be chosen, to have been through so much yet still be a bystander.  Her disappointment and frustration is what fueled her reconciliation with him. Sansa tried to set out on a bold new path, redirect her future but it just brought her right back round to him again. It was a cruel joke. But this time she was resolved to laugh instead of sulk

     The hate and anger never really went away, but they had diluted somewhat overtime.  Their history together, what they had been through nagged at her every time she tried to turn her back on him. She couldn't deny the connection, the way they complimented each other. She'd close her eyes and see him under the Godswood, those grey green eyes fixated on her, leaning in to kiss her. Remembering one moment triggered the rest of the memories, his lips against hers in the crypts, at the Vale by her snow castle.  Something would stir in her, something she had always felt but forced herself to ignore.  It gave her hope that she wasn't beyond repair, that it was possible she would want to be with a man again. Her curiosity, the urge to take advantage of his peculiar position, and the cold, cold winter were her downfall. Every time she faced the truth, took ownership of her shameless lust and ambition she still couldn't help but wince. Whatever was left of her sensible self, still hoped she’d realize the error of her ways, the dangers of acting so recklessly.

     The day was unusually busy.  Lord Royce, Lady Waynwood, and Lord Lyonel Corbray would all be arriving tomorrow and there was a great deal of preparation to be done. There would be a feast tomorrow night and the following day they would all meet with Jon and Sansa to discuss the future of the North, the threats they faced from the Lannisters as well as beyond the wall.   After Sansa ate alone in her room, she went to work assisting wherever she could and before she knew it the whole day had nearly passed. When she returned to her rooms late in the afternoon to rest before dinner, Petyr was waiting for her.

     Sansa did not acknowledge him as she entered. He was slouched gracefully in the chair by the window, one hand heavy with his rings of silver and gold dangling from the armrest while the other rested on his lap. She walked past him in silence, refusing to engage him. She sat on the edge of her bed, back facing him, slipped her shoes off and rolled off her woolen stockings.

     “Am I not worthy of at least a greeting anymore?”

     “You shouldn’t be in my room during the day.  What is so urgent that you would take such a risk?”

     He laughed to himself, “This morning on my way to see your brother I saw you sitting out in the courtyard alone, face up to the sky, eyes closed. Is there something causing you distress?”

     “You and my brother really should mind your own business.  All the questions and worrying are becoming very tiresome. ” She snapped as she turned and looked at him over her shoulder.

     “May I suggest not making your restlessness so obvious, if you hate to be questioned so much.”

     She sighed, “What exactly did you have to meet with Jon about?” She replied as she stood from her bed.

     “He’s concerned about keeping the Vale on his side, worried that Robin Arryn was not well enough to travel to Winterfell with Lord Royce...and of course I am still Lord Protector of the Vale.”

     “What of Robin’s health?  What if that fails?”

     “His health has suffered since the start of Winter.  I'm afraid my time at Winterfell must soon come to an end.  I must return and ensure the Vale continues to back the Starks and the North not matter what may happen.”

     She felt her chest tighten at the thought of him leaving Winterfell. She fought the urge to press him on the details.   _It doesn’t matter_ , she thought to herself.

     “You haven’t answered my question? What is worrying you?”

     “There are still so many against us...so much to be done.  And... _you_.  You worry me.” she replied

     He gently yanked and straighten the stiffs cuffs of his robes, “You share my bed when you need an escape, you’ve lied for me, I risked my life to get you out of King’s Landing, to bring the Knights of the Vale to your bastard brother’s aid...but _still_ you doubt me?”

     “My aunt trusted you and she ended up falling to her death out of the moon door.  What will happen to me when you no longer need me? I still don’t have an answer to _that_ question.” she replied.

     He stared at her in silence, his eyes cold and focused, not a single emotion playing across his face while his mind deliberated and observed.

     “Is that Littlefinger looking back at me or Petyr Baelish? Sometimes it’s impossible to tell.”

     She waited.  Her icy blue eyes never wavered, never looked away from his steady, sharp gaze. The instant she saw a subtle, upward tilt at the corner of his mouth, she began to move towards him. She stopped when the hem of her dress was brushing against the tip of his boots. He stared up at her still and patient, his callous demeanor slowly cracking as she pulled her dress up to her thighs, gathered it up towards her waist.  He sat up in his chair, his whole body at attention while his eyes wandered down to her bare feet then back up, “Someone might come looking for me... ” she sighed

     “No one will disturb us. I have someone keeping watch. They will warn us if anyone is looking for either one of us.” He replied as she finally brought herself down on his lap. He brought his hands to her waist and received her as she positioned herself and pressed against him.  

     Her hand floated up to the sliver mockingbird pin at the base of his neck. The pad of her finger rubbed against the puffed, polished chest then the ruffled tail feathers while her eye was drawn to the pale pink scar peeking up behind his collar.  She’d never seen his infamous scar in it’s entirety in broad daylight. She’d only ever gotten a quick glimpse of it by the light of a dim candle and he never slept without a shirt on. _I want to see it, I need to see it_ , she thought already working on unpinning the petite bird. She set his pin down carefully on the table beside them, then her fingers went to work on his robes.

     He seemed intrigued by her abrupt redirection and didn’t make any move to stop her.  She might not get very far but she was determined to try regardless.  He’d never admit it but she knew he disliked when she undressed him like this. It made him feel far too compromised. He enjoyed being the one in control, the one manipulating, deciding when you were allowed pleasure and when you deserved pain.  He sat back, one hand rising up to her cheek, then down the curve of her neck while the other stayed on the armrest, a knowing amusement shading his face the whole time.

     Her fingers immediately began to trace and travel down the raised, jagged borders of the scar from the notch in his neck all the way down to his stomach. His eyes stayed on her wandering fingers, his hand tensing a bit and digging into the arm of the chair.  She was finally able to clearly see the uneven texture, the discolored area right down the middle of his rib cage, and how it moved when he breathed. It was much longer and wider than she expected.  She leaned in and took a closer look at the tattered edges, it seemed as if it hadn't even been properly stitched and healed. The fact that he found a way to thrive on his own terms after being so close to death, after facing such rejection was quite a feat, one she couldn’t help but secretly admire, “The price you paid for love...” she remarked

     He took one deep, measured breath in an effort to reign in his disdain of her prying. Hoping his silence and the return of his tense, callous demeanor would end her comments and questions.  

     "It’s a nasty scar but you wear it very well." She poked again.

     More silence.

     “I know the simple version of the story. You challenged Brandon Stark, you lost everything but what about everything that happened in between and after. I want to know every little detail that led to your idiotic decision to challenge Brandon Stark. How did someone so _weak_ recover from such a harsh, humiliating defeat?  I want to hear the real story not the one you’ve rehearsed and tell to anyone who happens to ask.”  she said as she bent forward and kissed right where the scar started at the base of his neck.  He remained silent, his hands no longer touching her.

     “You'd probably rather have your chest sliced open again then recount such intimate, painful details to me. Oh... but I forgot isn’t the past supposed to be dead and gone? Judging by that look on your face it’s still alive and well.” she scoffed

     He clenched his jaw tight while his usually cool, detached eyes began to burn up with spite as they darted back up to meet hers.

     “You question why I don't trust you yet you can't even tell me the whole story behind this stunning scar.”

     She held his glare, un-afraid or intimidated by his anger.  She had no fear of his fury or contempt. She savored the fact that she was in a position now to challenge him, give him a taste of his own medicine. 

     She didn't rush to ease the tension. She held on tight to it, let his anger simmer.  When it felt right she brought her lips down right above his, her long hair grazing past his cheeks and pooling on top of his collarbone and shoulders.  Her hand dug down and disappeared between their bodies.  Her deft fingers untied the strings and hooks of his pants with ease, giving her access to his cock.  She took him in hand and stroked up and down, barely applying pressure.  

     “Petyr,” she breathed out, barely a whisper.  She bit at his lower lip, pulled at it before pressing her lips to his. Her hand applied a bit more pressure as she stroked the length of him, picked up some speed. He barely reacted, didn't make a sound even though he was hard and ready in her hand. It amazed her how long he could cling to his discipline and self control, even in the face of her blatant lust and need.

     “Has anyone ever said it to you?” she asked abruptly pulling her hand away from his cock, hoping for a wince of frustration, or flinch of pain. But nothing...

     He held on tight, bit his bottom lip and took a deep breath before saying, “What?”

     “That they love you...but not out of fear, or pity, or because they were out of their mind.”

     “Never."

     "So pleasure, fucking, lies...that's all you're good for.  Makes sense." she scoffed.

     "And you... did any young men declare their undying love?  I'm sure there were plenty pining for a chance to win the favor of the beautiful Sansa Stark.” she closed her eyes and buried her face in his neck as she slowly rubbed herself against his cock. His fingers swam through her hair, and she smiled against his neck at the sound his faint, low groans, “No. I didn't pay much attention to any other boys because many of them didn't meet my foolish expectations then... all that mattered was Joffery and getting as far away from Winterfell as I could." She replied her lips on the pulsing bloodline at his neck.  

     His hand disappeared between her thighs, pushed aside her small clothes, his thumb immediately massaging her tender nub while two long fingers slid inside her, “Ah yes your sweet prince who put your father's head on a spike, the boy of your dreams who allowed the Frey’s to kill your Mother and Brother, married you off to the imp.   So many worthy men you passed up, for what...an impetuous, sadistic brat. If only you hadn't been blinded by silly fantasies, and tales of love how different your path could've been. Did you have any idea how twisted Joffrey was, did anyone one in your family know?  What was it you said to me once... _if you didn't know you were an idiot_.  Tell me was he your first kiss or was it Tyrion? "

     His cruel words cut through her desire. The past and all her mistakes still held her in it's grips. Any mention of it still felt like someone smashing salt in her still bleeding, open wounds. She had not quite mastered the past that haunted her...not enough yet to truly out maneuver him. She bent forward, her lips grazing down his chest, open mouthed she licked and teased one of his nipples before biting down as hard as she could on it, nearly drawing blood. His whole body jerked, and he hissed loudly in pain

     He grabbed a fist full of her hair and yanked her head up, his thumb and forefinger holding her face in place.  She could smell herself on his fingertips, it made her smirk,“Tsk, Tsk, that wasn’t very nice. It's very unattractive when you throw tantrums like a silly little girl. I _understand_. You don't want me to forget my place, you love to see me unravel and squirm but you're foolish if you think I'll sit back and not join in your cruel little games.  You're just as spiteful and cunning as all the rest and you enjoy every second...don't you Sansa.  Now _..._ would you like to continue or would you like to sulk all alone in your room? ” he asked in a low, even tone that was laced with the simmering fury he only used when it mattered.  

     She stayed still until his grip loosened in her hair, until his hand fell away from her face.  Once she was ready she answered his question by sinking herself all the way down on his cock in one smooth, sluggish motion.  Once he was completely inside her, they both froze and exhaled, the much needed relief flooding their minds and bodies.  

     Eyes shut tight, back arched she began to move her hips back and forth. He allowed himself to drop his defenses and react, muttering her name with every other shallow breath then humming his approval.  She licked her lips and focused on the immense gratification of being completely filled by him, of finding the most pleasurable pattern of movements. He clung to the back of her thighs and hips and intently watched as his greedy little bird took her selfish pleasure.  

     " _Mmmmmm..._ I really do enjoy it _"_ she moaned, breath ragged, her voice barely even a sigh, _"_  I really do...I really do hate you _."_  she leaned forward and licked at his lips before a messy kiss.

     He laughed as he wrapped his arms around her and brought her down to the floor. Mesmerized she let him take the lead and position her. He hooked her legs around his while his hips began to pump upwards in a relentless, broad rhythm. With no time to acclimate she gasped at the sudden shift of tempo. There was a powerful sense of menace and destruction alight in his eyes as he witnessed her begin to dismantle. Her hips searched and found a cadence with his, rising up to meet each stroke. It barely registered that she had lost control of her voice. Whimpers and moans involuntarily crawled up from her throat and fell from her lips every time his hips slammed into hers. It didn't take long for everything around her to suddenly go to a blurry mush except for him. His opaque green eyes, the up and down curves of his soft mouth, the streaks of grey at his temples sharpened and became more vivid with each precise and brutal thrust. He was the only thing she wanted to see.

     The instant she felt herself reaching the peak of the hysteria growing inside her she dragged him down and covered her mouth with his. Feeling his weight on top of her, being able to claw at his shoulders and back anchored her, gave her the chance to prepare for the wave that was about to hit. The taste of his lips, his tongue eagerly seeking out hers was all it took to finally break the dam and bring everything blissfully crashing down. Her fingers scraped at his back and her thighs clenched tight around him as the rush of satisfaction flooded into every limb in her body and went straight to her head. He immediately slowed down gave her space to breathe and savor the tremendous ecstasy that was sinking it’s teeth into her. He hovered over her, kept her body close to his. She knew this was the part he looked forward to every time they fucked. He always took a moment to savor the euphoric, dazed look on her face, the gasp of his name bubbling up and out of her swollen lips, the slight shaking in her thighs and legs.  

     Then there was a loud knock at her door and everything came to very painful stop.  She looked up at him wide eyed and still, he buried her face in her neck overwhelmed by having to hold himself back.  

     Another knock, “Sansa it’s Jon.”

     “I thought you said someone was watching, making sure.” she spat

     Petyr slammed his fist on the floor.

     “One moment I’m dressing!” She wiggled out from under him and frantically fixed her dress while he stood and buttoned his trousers and robes as best he could.  He moved out of sight behind her dressing screen near her vanity.  

     She opened the door only a sliver, “Jon, I’m dressing.  Is everything ok? Can I meet you down in the hall later?”

    “No...Just wanted to check on you.  This morning, when I saw you out all alone, sitting, you seemed sad and...troubled. I know you said you were fine but it's been bothering me.  Is there something going on? I'm worried you're keeping something from me?”

    “Jon I’m fine.  Just a little tired. I didn’t sleep well last night and I’m anxious about the visit from the Lords of the Vale, that’s all. ” she smiled.

     “If there’s something's wrong or if you're in trouble you can tell me, you know that right?

     “Of course,” she sighed “Jon really I’m _fine_ , I'm not in any trouble.”

     “Ok I’ll leave you be.  Come down to dinner when you’re ready.”

     She closed and locked her door then fell against it in relief, glad she was able to avoid a complicated and tiresome confrontation with Jon.

     Petyr came out from hiding, his clothes a crumpled mess, his hair tousled, a dazed look on his face. She’d never seen him so upside down and out of sorts. She didn’t know what came over her but she just couldn’t help but laugh. The sight of him, the whole scene made her fold over and laugh with her whole body.  It felt good to laugh.

     “I’m glad you’re so amused.” he replied and he sat down on the edge of the bed.

     “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was possible for you to look so ridiculous.” she said through her laughter.

     She pushed herself off the door and made her way over to him, “Your men are getting sloppy Lord Baelish.” She teased as her fingers dug into the laces of her dress, tugging them loose.

     “Yes the punishment will have to be severe.”

     She wiggled, shrugged her shoulders up so she could pull her arms out of her dress. She let her dress fall down to her feet then kicked it aside.  

     He sat back on his hands, “Is this really what you want?  Always hiding away, your brother constantly keeping watch.  He doesn't completely trust you...he worries you are making decisions again without him.  Does that not bother you?”

     She paused and effortlessly pulled her shift up over her head, “No not at all.” she replied as she peeled off her small clothes.  

    "And what will you do when he wants you to marry?  What will you do when the King of the North comes to with the proposal of some advantageous marriage?  What will you do then?"

    Limbs entwined, lips joined, they crawled up on the bed, "That won't happen.  That will never happen." she replied as she drew him down between her thighs, wanting him close again.

     Feeling his bare skin against hers, his weight on top of her made her want him all over, made her wet and ready once again. His mouth on her breast, he positioned himself between her thighs, “If your brother knew what you really are, what you really want...if he’d caught us fucking on the floor would you have even care?”

     She didn’t answer, her hips rocked with his, all she wanted was to be filled by him but he was still just teasing, “No...I wouldn't have cared.” she breathed out, lost in sensation and gratification, as his hips roughly thrusted forward. They found their cadence from earlier but the urgency was gone and the tempo and articulation was much more relaxed.  She bit her lip and whined softly as he pressed into her.  Her eyes couldn't stay open, just the touch and sound of him was all she craved now.

     “No.” He snapped, “Open your eyes.”  

     She immediately obeyed. The intensity of his gaze caught her off guard. She could see he was close, ready to lose himself in the pleasure only she could provide.

     The faint afternoon sunlight pour in on them, covered them with warmth while they tore each other apart, while they sank down into the oblivion they loved so dearly.  

     Afterwards she laid beside him, spent and satisfied, her cheek pressed against his scar and for once she didn’t feel uneasy reveling in her lust, she wasn’t scared of her fierce ambition.  It made her feel alive, flawed and alive.  

     They cleaned up and dressed in silence.  She noticed his mockingbird pin resting on the table where she had left it.   She picked it up and walked over to the other side of the bed where he was sitting, putting on his boots.  He sat up as she approached and he let her pin the bird to his collar, “Do you still think I’m the future of the North...that the North could be mine?” She asked.

     “Of course.”

     She carefully positioned the pin, made sure it was perfectly straight then looked down into his eyes, “Queen of the North...that’s what I want. I want to decide who I marry.  I don’t want to be off to your side, or Jon’s  I want my life to be my own.”

     He stood from the edge of the bed, snaked his hands around her waist, and pressed his lips to her ear, “I’ll keep my door unlocked for you tonight.”

     She pulled away from him and turned to leave, “No. I think from now on I’ll leave _my_ door unlocked for _you_. Please make sure your men keep watch properly from now on.” she said as she walked out, not once looking back.  


End file.
